


I'm Dirty

by Megg33k



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingerfucking, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megg33k/pseuds/Megg33k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone (assstiel) asked for Destiel smut that started with "I'm dirty." This is Destiel smut that starts with "I'm dirty." It's pretty simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Dirty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [assstiel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=assstiel).



> OMG... I threw this together in about 20 min. I'm sorry in advance if it's horrible. I swear I know how to write a decent sex scene... I'm just not sure this is a very good example.

"I'm dirty." The angel dropped his gaze, clearly ashamed of his appearance, his soul, his sins.

Dean lifted his chin. It didn't matter to him if Cas wasn't the pristine specimen he'd met eons ago. It didn't matter, because Cas was alive and real, and dirt be damned. Who amongst them was clean, untainted by the lives they'd led? No one, and all the better for it. He smirked. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

In the space of a breath, Cas was on his feet with his back pressed against the nearest wall. Dean nipped at his lips, too scared to be tender, too aggressive to show love. And why should he? Opening himself up to love, making himself vulnerable, that's just the quickest way to get the object of his affection killed. His heart dragged danger behind it like an old friend.

"Dean." Cas' voice was a low rumble. "What're you-"

"Shut up." Dean held the angel- _his angel_ -by the jaw. "Just shut up."

The next breath Dean drew was ragged. Every fiber of his being told him this wasn't who he was supposed to be, but how does one deny their heart after a wait too long, a brush with death too close? How could he deny himself a taste of the love he thought he'd lost, the glory of the man he thought he'd failed?

Overgrown whiskers pricked his skin, setting it aflame when their lips finally met. Chaste at first, a confused angel still trying to work out what he was meant to do. But it soon turned needy. And as Cas' soiled layers were shed, Dean's soon followed.

They stood bare chest to bare chest, and Dean winced. A kiss could be overlooked, but what came next was forever. And he had never wanted anything else quite so badly. He closed his eyes, reached toward his groin, and for the first time, gripped an erection that wasn't his own. Twin shudders came from the hunter and his angel, both experiencing something equally new and frightening and fucking glorious.

A choked off sob died in Cas' throat, and he clung to Dean's neck, mouth gaping open.

When a rough finger sought out and found the angel's virginal entrance, it sank inside followed by a second. They rotated, massaged, and eventually spread, coaxing their host open. Wanton moans formed a symphony that sounded suspiciously like Dean's name, and restraint only went so far.

The wall supported most of Cas' weight as Dean lifted him, and no instruction was necessary to encourage weaking legs to wrap tightly around the hunter's waist. Dean lowered Cas with a groan, letting his cock disappear into an unimaginably hot and tight space that felt something like home. If death had come to take him in that moment, it all would have been worth it. Because years of potential energy and stored passion can only be dammed to a certain degree.

When self-loathing takes up so much of your time, you start to neglect the aching prick between your legs. And when you don't feel like you deserve the release or unadultered joy of an orgasm, you resist even when time is abundant. But when you're buried to your hilt in the purest love you've ever known, some sins are suddenly forgiven, and moving in earnest seems less like a reward you don't deserve.

Dean's arm snaked tightly around Cas' chest, the other supporting him from beneath. It was only a few steps to the bed, and Dean had always liked feeling more like a bucking bronco than a piston. When they fell onto the bed, Cas' thighs snugged tight against Dean's sides. His whole body stiffened and several seconds passed before Dean realized he hadn't a clue what to do next.

Calloused fingers settled on inexperienced hips and pressed down, guiding a slow, jerking, circular movement. And what happened next was nothing shy of miraculous. Without coaxing, Cas' body rolled. He ground hard against Dean's cock, his own twitching in response as he gasped out the single syllable of his hunter's name.  
Hips snapping rhythmically against hips, Dean circled Cas' prick and began to stroke in cadence. His angel, still so naive and inexperienced, wouldn't last long, but he didn't care. Watching an Angel of the Lord come apart in your capable hands, feeling him tightening around you in the throes of the first- _but certainly not the last, not by a long shot_ -orgasm of his life... it would be well worth it.

"Dean. I don't... I don't know... what's happen-"

"Don't fight it." Dean licked his lips and tightened his grip. "Cum for me, Cas. Just give me this. Let me finally be good enough at something."

Cas cocked his head. "Dean. You've always been guuuuhhhhhh..."

The swift jerk of Dean's hips, the slip-slide of a cock pressed hard and fast against his prostate, the depth and bredth of the thrust, the twist of a fist, the flick of a thumb over the head of an over-heated and under-appreciated prick... it all sent Cas over the edge. The shadow of wings unfurled and blueish white light flooded from his open mouth and seeped from his pores. When he came, he glowed. He goddamn glowed. And Dean had never seen anything so fucking beautiful in all his life.

The pulsing clench of muscles, the spasm of ecstacy gripped Dean tightly, like it was trying to raise him, cock first, from perdition all over again. And when he came, he came shouting... Cas' name- _the proper one, Castiel_ -shattered and flew out in shards amongst the sundry of broken expletives. He panted helplessly through vision blown white, begrudging the fact it obscured his view of the angel still perched atop his prick.

And when Cas collapsed at his side, absently tracing circles over skin inked with protection, he sighed. A sigh on the lips of an angel; there are few things more breathtaking in the whole of the universe.

Dean stroked the scruff on Cas' cheek. "Want me to help you clean up?"

Cas blinked a long slow blink before answering. "Maybe in a little while. I don't feel dirty anymore, Dean."

"You never were to me." Dean smiled, a genuine smile. And, for the first time in years, he remembered what it was like to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't looked this over or anything. I think perhaps I shouldn't be posting this. I'm sorry... I know it's sort of crap. I'll give you something better later... when it's not 5am.


End file.
